


Grave Times, Old Chimes

by demonfox38



Category: Lupin III
Genre: A couple callbacks to Red Jacket episodes, Because nobody's getting out that easy, Blue Jacket Arsène Lupin III, Gen, Male Bonding, Mid-Canon, death denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24447796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonfox38/pseuds/demonfox38
Summary: Their situation has gone so far south that they are literally underground. Goemon wants to go six feet deeper, but Jigen just wants to cook dinner. Nobody is having success tonight. However, that may be for the best. (A bridge piece between the penultimate and final episodes of Part 5.)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	Grave Times, Old Chimes

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently using the adventures of this monkey man and his goof troop to fill some time while we're collectively cooped up. It's really pulled me out of a nose dive. Maybe it's the zaniness of it, or maybe I just appreciate a series that answers my questions as I ask them. Or maybe that there's fifty years worth of stuff to dig through. That certainly helps!
> 
> So, here's a quick character study to stretch out some sedentary writing muscles. It's 600 words shorter than I like to post, but sometimes enough is enough.

Something was rattling.

Sharp ears were familiar with the sound, but not its source. Closed eyes opened, widened. What could that be? The pot frothing over the gas-lit camping stove? No. The pipes overhead? Maybe. There were centuries of humanity building and unbuilding above him, some of their sewers still carrying waste. But, no. The sound was dry, clean, just behind his left ear.

Jigen turned his head, finding the source of the sound—human nerves clacking through wood and metal.

A sigh wheezed through his strained trachea. Freaking Zantetsuken. Swords didn't talk, no matter what their wielders said. Neither did guns or vehicles or dogs, for that matter. But, a person could still talk to a dog. A dog could bark back with their own series of patterns. Cars roared and groaned, guns clicked and hammered and snapped. A wise man knew how to speak with the universe—or at the very least, how to listen to it and react.

Well, Jigen was no wise man. A wise guy, maybe. Slight difference. But, he knew when something—someone—was trying to talk to him. He'd been around that damned katana and its wielder long enough to know what both were saying without a single word.

They were mourning. Rueful. Scared.

They should be.

"Out with it," Jigen demanded.

It was easier to pull teeth than words out of Goemon's jaw. Jigen had seen the horrific result of that truth. Now was not the time for staring. He needed to listen, yank the meaning out of muteness. It came in the ruffle of folding cotton, vertebrae popping, Zantetsuken falling silent. Then, against his side.

Oh, goodie. This again.

If it were any other weapon, Jigen would have picked it up and thrown it halfway across their underground encampment. One didn't just pitch Zantetsuken around. They didn't just have it fall into their possession, either. Goemon treated the weapon like a part of him, as if it were forged from his own ribs. Surrendering the blade was literally giving up his life.

Of course, that was what he wanted.

Jigen sighed, then grabbed a spoon. "Really?"

Goemon nodded.

"You're asking the wrong guy, you know."

"Lupin will not do it."

Why would he? Not that their mutual employer and cohort was above getting his hands dirty. The matter of fact was that Lupin could have had both of their heads any time he pleased. Even with the differences in their skills—even as childish and goofy as Lupin could get—no doubt, he would have them both in the dirt if that was what he really wanted. But, he didn't. He found their fights as fun as roller coasters—their betrayals like a carousel zebra he rode drunk and backwards.

Such levity ground Goemon in its gears. He couldn't ever find the joy in such a wild ride. That, Jigen understood. There was a time to forgive and a time for vengeance, and boy, Jigen loved his vengeance piping hot. As much as he didn't get Lupin's childish antics, neither did he understand Goemon's masochism. He could be so damned arrogant, and in the next heartbeat, throw himself under the hooves of horses. Maybe such pride hurt to bear. Would mashing neurons into pulp really make that pain stop?

Hissing water slowed as Jigen turned the burner of the camping stove down. "Where's your tantō?"

Where the heat of the stove cooled, fire remained in Goemon's face. "Inspector Zenigata confiscated it from me when I was imprisoned."

Sure. Frankly, it was a freak accident that he even got Zantetsuken back. "Well, that's not fair. You're going to make me do all of the work?"

"I could use a cooking knife as a substitute."

"No!" Jigen grunted. "I'm not letting you get your guts all over the only damned knife we've got."

"Fine," Goemon agreed. "Zantetsuken alone will be enough."

Damn it. He was really intent on doing this. Freaking samurai and their freaking honor and their freaking seppuku. How much of any of that did Goemon even have, really? The samurai title was suspect. Most of his teachers were dishonorable, dead assholes. He made his life as a hired gun for a thief. Maybe he had the clothes and the weapons and the same stick up his ass as samurai once had, but it was erroneous to classify Goemon as solely that. But, whatever he did, he did whole-heartedly. Even this.

Too arrogant to beg but begging all the same.

A heavy head fell, heedless of the heat before him. Fingers folded under his body, extending his thumbs, treating this farce like some sort of frail tea ceremony. Jigen rolled his eyes. He put the last of his utensils aside, finally taking Zantetsuken into his grasp. His right hand wrapped around the stains in its handle, the sweat and blood that had washed it dark. Holding it was the same as snatching Goemon's hand. Time molded it into the grooves of his fingers, taken his body in its form.

There was one last rattle as Jigen steeled himself.

Then, a crack as he whipped it across the back of Goemon's head.

A clatter and a roar followed. Goemon yanked up, his head still attached to his neck, the top of his skull burning from colliding into Jigen's cooking. It took everything in Jigen's jaw not to open his mouth and cackle at his fuming companion. Well, he wanted worse. Who was he to be pissed off about getting hurt?

"What in the hell was that?" Goemon snapped.

In the same tone, Jigen parroted the samurai's own words against him. "I just hit you with the back of your sword." Well, hell. Not even that. The sheath itself!

Sandals stomped the earth as Goemon shot up. "Don't mock me!"

"Then don't put your screw-ups on me!" Jigen snapped back.

The anger in Goemon went cold. Jigen could hear a crack in his throat as it went through deposition. Dirt shifted as the samurai pushed away, stomping into the excess of their hideout. As far as Jigen was concerned, that was fine. He still had Zantetsuken. Even in these tunnels, there was only so far Goemon could go. Rude as he was, he wasn't about to disturb Lupin, either. No. The coward just had to wait until their boss was asleep to put this shit on Jigen.

Fine, then. Fine. This was all fine. Sitting under the ruins of Cagliostro with maybe a fistful of dollars to their name, eating conbini crap. Fine. Hiding out from everyone on the surface. Fine. Having to deal with this whole Shake Hanz nonsense again just because Goemon couldn't read a damn cellphone and keep his ego in check. Fine. Having to go pry Fujiko out of some far-flung tower while she spent her days in a cage, drinking fine champagne in pretty little dresses. Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine. Her little vacation was no skin off of Jigen's back.

Except for Lupin and his big old eyes and his, "I've got to save Fujiko, no matter how many times she stabs me in the back!" nonsense.

At least that attitude spared Goemon. Jigen too, even if he hated to admit it.

It wasn't long before the samurai scrolled back around to their little campsite. He took the same seat beside Jigen, folding his hands in the same somber cross. The silence between them was different. Not hot, not cold. Just right. An apology would have been better. Those weren't just words anyone could pull out of Goemon's jaw, though.

But, Jigen hadn't been working for Lupin for so many goddamn years to not learn a trick or two about getting what he wanted.

Crinkling broke from Jigen's suit jacket. From its black interior came a brown and silver package. He was careful as he pulled the wrapping apart, following along its glued seam. It split just far enough for him to break off the first level of its contents. There was no snap from the chocolate bar, but at least it didn't melt in his hands. Lucky for him, considering how long he had it against his chest.

"Here," Jigen ordered. "Eat."

Goemon pulled his head back. "No dessert before dinner."

"You're being a pain in the ass," Jigen grumbled. "You're the worst when your blood sugar has tanked. Do me a favor and eat this before I have to beat you with your own sword again."

"I am not diabetic."

"Never said that. I just know you." Jigen twisted the strip of chocolate around the samurai's face, scolding him with it like a taunting finger. "You've spent the last few weeks stuck in prison, probably eating food you hate or just straight up not eating, dealing with the consequences of your stupid ego, and you are obviously not taking that very well. You're angry, and you want revenge, and you want to be punished, and frankly? I'm not giving that to you. But what I am giving you is chocolate. So, do me a favor, and eat some goddamned chocolate."

It took Goemon a moment to process the onslaught of words Jigen fired at him. "Does it have—”

"No, it does not have almonds, _goshujinsama._ "

Frustration and disgust looked about the same on Goemon's face. It fell away behind frayed hair and a bowed head. With a gentle tug, Goemon took Jigen's offering. The hunter held his smirk as his friend ate, content with the quiet peace between them. Lupin would have to fill the void in space. They didn't.

Another rattle put them both at ease. Jigen leaned back, a lit cigarette in his right hand and Zantetsuken resting against his left. Damn, this world was weirder and weirder by the day. Even the once omnipresence scent of cigarette smoke was bottled up, shared as only the cologne of miscreants. Was this the only place they belonged—tossed aside in a sewer? Maybe that was where thieves and assassins died. That was part of the gig. But, there was still something fundamentally wrong about throwing a samurai away. It cut like the edges of shattered ceramics.

Well, people were wasteful. Worse now than ever.

A smart man didn't abandon what he had.

Spindly legs folded up, smoke rising with them. "Remember that time you and I were brainwashed into living as a sexless gay couple by a psychiatrist posing as a nun?"

Goemon paled. "Why?"

"I'm not interrogating you," Jigen laughed. "Just wondering if you remembered."

"Of course." Goemon sunk down to his level. "It was humiliating."

"Yeah. Not our finest hour." With a shrug, Jigen shook off his embarrassment. "But, it wasn't the worst."

Goemon wasn't nearly as certain with his conclusions over that matter. "I suppose..."

"I mean, worshipping her? Kissing her sandals and home keeping and everything? Blegh." Two taps at the base of Jigen's cigarette cleared its ashes. "But, there was a part of me that remembered sending an SOS to Lupin. I knew he'd be coming. And you were already there with me. So, everything was okay."

"Going to be, you mean."

"No. Was."

Goemon stared at him, a trained emptiness struggling to mask his thoughts. Jigen smirked, then continued smoking. Maybe it was some nicotine blast hitting his brain, or maybe there was something residually wrong with him. He said what he said, and he wasn't going to take that back. Surely, Goemon understood that.

Lupin didn't keep idiots around, after all.

Speaking took too much energy. Goemon closed his eyes, conserving what little fire he had left. "You…trust me."

"More than most," Jigen agreed.

"Still?"

"Still."

"Then, thank you." Anxiety pushed Goemon out of his comfort. "For the chocolate, and for—"

"Oy, oy. No need to itemize your gratitude," Jigen laughed. "Just ease up on talking with Zantetsuken, alright? You've got a mouth. So, use that instead."

"Phrasing, Jigen!"

The scolding tease didn't come from Goemon. Rather, it fell from the grinning goofus eyeing the contents of Jigen's jacket pocket. It wasn't long before Lupin had the rest of his chocolate bar peeled like a banana. Jigen let the theft slide. When Lupin was struck down, every last calorie counted. Considering his last scrape with Zantetsuken, he was lucky that such a limbo bar didn't send him to actual Limbo.

"So," Lupin mumbled. "What's up? Anything new?"

"Cooking supper," Jigen explained.

His boss waved his stolen candy bar at Zantetsuken. "And that?"

"Needed to chop potatoes."

"Oh, really?" Lupin craned around Jigen's body, smirking as he forced eye contact with Goemon. "You weren't sneaking behind my back, trying to get someone else to kill you, were you? Because I've got big plans that require you not being dead!"

Goemon just sighed, then pulled Zantetsuken from Jigen's lap. "Like what?"

"Getting revenge, for one thing!" Lupin nabbed their cooking spoon once more, poking at the mess Jigen left on the burner. "I don't take kindly to anyone stirring up your head like a pot of noodles. That's my job, you know? And we've got to save Fujiko! And then maybe pick up a million or two on the way to our next hideout! And then we can get back to business!"

Jigen rolled onto his right elbow. "That's too much for you, right now. Better scrap saving Fujiko."

"Ha, ha, ha." If Lupin was disgusted by anything, it was less Jigen's attitude and more his cooking. "What in the hell do you have in here, anyway? I don't see any potatoes…"

"Three packets of ramen, a can of sausages, and some hot sauce."

Lupin whistled. "Suppose you don't have any more chocolate bars on hand, do you?"

"Lupin."

"Because if you're lying to me, I'll just dig through your supplies and—”

"Don't make me regret saving you."

"Did you hear that, Goemon?" Lupin feigned a dart to his heart. "The pain! The absolute treachery! He would have had us rotting in jail for the rest of our lives just because I don't like his cooking! Boy, the nerve of some people!"

Such drama was not enough to rile up the samurai. "He said nothing about regretting aiding me."

"Oh. _Oh._ I see how it is." With that, Lupin crossed his arms. "Well, then. See if I help you two out the next time some megalomaniac decides to play dollhouse with you again."

The slightest hint of color flushed across Goemon's face. "Just how long have you been listening to our conversation?"

"More than long enough to know you two would have been _terrible_ at picking out drapes."


End file.
